Dangerous Paths
by OneBabyToAnother
Summary: A woman from Sherlock's past makes a reappearance, bringing with her a torment she can't seem to shake. Something big is going on, and Sherlock finds himself becoming apart of it. Sherlock/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Okay I'm a big fan of Sherlock and since the third season just ended I thought I'd write an idea I had to keep me entertained throughout hiatus. You know those fanfics you always look for? I've always had one in my min but couldn't find the right one so I just decided to write it myself. I haven't written a non-Marvel fanfic before so here goes, but really it's just a creative outlet for me, I'm not a great Sherlock fanfic writer. Anyway, this story takes place probably in middle of series 2 where mostly everything is established. However in my story, Irene Adler doesn't exist. I love her in the series and all other works, but my character is so much like her and I didn't think it would work with two similar characters for obvious reasons. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

''That's that man over there,''

''Where? What man?''

''The man I was telling you about. He can solve any crime. I went to him once about my car when it was stolen and he told me who did it in five minutes! He's on the telly sometimes.''

The two elderly ladies gossiped about the man over their coffee, looking over to him occasionally to make sure he couldn't hear them, although if he was as smart as they were claiming, he would have known. The woman next to them flipped the page of the daily paper, rolling her eyes subtly every time the women would continue their praise of the detective.

Sherlock Holmes stared out the window of the small cafe, scanning the streets for an unknown reason. That's what it looked like to other people, that he was searching for something, but he was just observant.

''The prices have gone up,''

''Divorce,''

John looked over to his friend, confused.

''Sorry?''

''The divorce,'' Sherlock repeated as if he should already know. ''The owner, he's going through a divorce with his power hungry wife who changed suppliers without telling him therefore forcing prices to rise to make a profit resulting in loss of loyal customers. Wife one, husband zero,''

John gave an impressed nod and continued looking over his choices on the menu as Sherlock swapped his study of the street outside to the people inside the cafe. Everyone was absorbed in their own world, eating or drinking, chatting with their friends or reading a book peacefully, but Sherlock knew almost everything about them all from the one glance it took to move past them. Then he saw her. Charlotte. Her wavy brown hair sitting just above her shoulders, acting completely oblivious to his presence and sipping at a cup of tea.

It had been over a year since his first encounter with her. It was odd being in the same room with her when she didn't have a gun pointed toward him or blood stained on her hands. There was a point to her being here, this was no coincidence. However after a group of customers walked past her table, she was no longer there.

''What?'' John asked as Sherlock stood up, alert. ''What's going on?''

Sherlock didn't want John following after him. Whatever this woman was here for, it had to do with matters created before John began assisting him with cases.

''Nothing, nothing at all,'' he lied. ''Won't be a moment,''

John already knew he was lying, Sherlock was never this pleasant when excusing himself. In fact he never excused himself.

Sherlock walked outside and pulled his coat on, looking around the corners, scanning for any sign of her. She was gone, but he knew she wouldn't be far. It only took him walking down the lane behind the cafe to find her. She was leaning back on the brick wall smoking a cigarette, ignoring the fact he was walking closer to her. He slipped his hands into his pocket and leaned back on the brick wall opposite her, mimicking her position as she looked over to him with a smirk.

''So this is what you do with your day now?'' she finally spoke, blowing smoke in his direction.

''And this is what you do with yours?''

Charlotte reached over and held out a pack of cigarettes for him to take one, noticing his obvious hesitation. She didn't move though, and soon enough Sherlock relented, lighting the white stick of tobacco.

''No case today?'' she asked casually.

''I have one pending,'' he looked over to her curiously, enjoying the smoke that he breathed in. ''Why are you here?''

''There always has to be a motive with you, doesn't there?'' she shook her head. ''I could be on a holiday,''

''Unlikely. You couldn't entertain yourself for more than five minutes,''

''Maybe that's why I'm here then, for entertainment,'' she shrugged. ''See what London has to offer,''

Sherlock didn't know what she was thinking or what she was planning to do, and he had always narrowed that down to why he was so interested in her. She rarely had a motive, she did things because she could and she worked alone, much like he used to.

Their paths crossed on a case over a year ago, and it had been a while since their last short reunion on another dangerous endeavor they'd managed to link together. Charlotte had no family and no friends, preferring to be alone for the most part, and so he struggled to understand why she would be here if there wasn't a reason. A serious reason. But he knew she wouldn't tell him if he acted curious or asked, so he ignored it for now.

''The people here really like you,'' she told him, referring to the women's conversation inside. ''Obviously you don't socialize much,''

Her wit always reminded him of Mycroft, except he sometimes enjoyed her taunts more than his brother's.

''I don't have time or patience to socialize,'' he took the cigarette from his mouth. ''Married to my work, you know that,''

''As am I,'' she shrugged. ''Yet I socialize just fine,''

''You forget you're talking to a high-''

''High functioning sociopath, I'm aware,'' she rolled her eyes. ''We're all aware,''

They stood in silence for a short while until Charlotte threw her cigarette butt on the ground, stepping on top of it and twisting it with her shoe. She looked around the corners of the small lane there were in, happy that no one else was around. Sherlock noted her caution but said nothing of it, he'd find out what was going on soon enough, when he had time to process it all.

''Well, nice seeing you Sherlock,'' Charlotte smiled over to him. ''I best be going, there's an apartment awaiting my approval,''

That caught his attention.

''Here? You're staying?''

''Of course I'm staying, I can't take in all of London in one day, what sort of holiday would that be?''

This was odd. Charlotte had never stayed in one place for longer than a few hours or overnight at most. Finding an apartment in London wasn't something she would do if she was on a holiday, in fact she would never take a holidays. Nothing added up, and he became more curious as to what she was actually doing here.

''Where are you staying?'' he asked, assuming she would have no connections around here.

''Why? Care to visit?'' she looked over to him playfully. ''I know an old lady, sweet thing she is, she offered me a place to stay and wouldn't take no for an answer. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll see each other again soon, Sherlock,''

Sherlock watched as Charlotte walked away down the street, wrapping herself in her black coat and slipping her hands into her pocket as she became further away. He needed to know why she was here. It was something important, something big, and he could tell there was a hint of fear in her eyes as she looked around each corner and every face she passed. If she was scared of something, he knew she was involved in something big.

* * *

John had been wondering all afternoon what had taken Sherlock's attention this morning at the cafe. It wasn't unusual for him to do odd things like get up and walk out of a room suddenly, but the look on his face told John something was going on. However, when his friend returned, nothing more was said and things carried on as usual with John reading out cases they could choose from to investigate during the day.

It was late afternoon when they returned back at the flat in Baker street, but Sherlock wasn't looking forward to going to bed and sleeping. Something was on his mind, and he needed to get all the information he could find on Charlotte. There had to be something big to have happened recently to explain why she was here, and Sherlock knew how to find information on nearly everyone. Except Charlotte wasn't just an ordinary person, she was careful about herself, she made sure people didn't know things she didn't want them to know. She knew how to control how her information was found and alter it to show only what she wanted it to.

Nothing new had happened. The only articles he found in the database with her name were a few arrests she had assisted in and a few times she'd been arrested herself. There was nothing new, but it only made circumstances much more interesting.

In the morning, Sherlock was in his robe as he walked into the kitchen where Mrs. Hudson had left a tray containing cups and and teapot. Out of habit, he assumed the clinking of a tea cup and saucer in the living room was John having awoke early, and so he continued pouring himself a cup of the hot liquid without even glancing around.

''Morning,''

Sherlock immediately turned to the voice in the living room, holding the cup tight in his hands. She looked as if she had just woken up as well. Dressed in short pants and a tank top, her hair a mess, she smiled over to his surprise, amused.

''The robe suits you,'' she nodded. ''Blue is your color,''

Trying not to seen startled by her appearance, Sherlock wandered into the living room with a cup of tea in his hands, sipping at it casually as he looked over her. She had no obvious marks on her body that indicated an uncomfortable night or any injuries that gave him any information. She wanted something from him, it was the only reason for her to be here.

''What do you want?'' he asked in a tone that implied his disinterest, sitting in his chair across from her.

''What makes you think I want something?''

''Oh please, why else would you be here?'' he rolled his eyes. ''You find it difficult to ask for my help so you continue to show up until you assume I'll offer it,''

''Not everyone needs your help Sherlock,'' she chuckled. ''I'm here for my own reasons,''

Sherlock was about to demand a straight answer when Mrs. Hudson opened the door and walked in, a happy smile on her face as she saw him and Charlotte sitting in the living room. He expected her to question Charlotte's presence since every entrance to the building was monitored by Mrs. Hudson, but she just walked over to them with her hands clutched together and her usual excitement.

''I see you've met this wonderful young lady, Sherlock,'' Mrs. Hudson, stood behind Charlotte, a hand on her shoulder. ''Isn't she lovely?''

Charlotte smiled up at the woman before she looked back over to Sherlock, satisfied with the surprise on his face, again. Mrs. Hudson seemed to adore the woman sitting in front of Sherlock, and he knew that she would have been fed a false story regarding Charlotte's reason to be here.

''Of course,'' Sherlock agreed, although his expression didn't change.

John walked into the living room moments later, pulling on his coat and seeing they had unexpected company. He glanced over to the stranger sitting in his chair sipping tea in her pajamas and looked over to Sherlock, wondering if this woman had stayed the night.

''Morning...'' he spoke with obvious confusion in his voice.

''Good morning neighbor,'' Charlotte smiled, finishing off her tea.

''Neighbor?'' Both Sherlock and John repeated.

''Charlotte's renting the flat across from you boys,'' Mrs. Hudson told them excitedly. ''She doesn't know many people around here, I couldn't let her end up at one of those dreadful flats across town. I saw them on the news, they're absolutely horrid! No place for a lovely young woman like yourself,''

''Thank you Mrs. Hudson,'' Charlotte beamed up at the woman. ''You've been too kind,''

''Yes far too kind,'' Sherlock interrupted. ''So kind I think you've forgotten my dislike toward having a neighbor,''

''Oh, Sherlock,'' Mrs. Hudson shook her head. ''Charlotte won't be any trouble,''

''No trouble at all,'' Charlotte agreed, her lips curving upwards into a smirk as she faced Sherlock.

''Well, welcome to the building then,'' John gave her a light smile, trying to finish the welcoming so that he could have his own seat back. For some reason it bothered him with someone else sitting in it. ''Hope you don't mind the occasional gunshots or violin at early hours of the morning,''

Sherlock couldn't help watching as Charlotte played her part in front of everyone, examining her expressions and movements. Of course, she knew he would be doing so, and she hid anything that would give him any indication of her lies or that there was something else going on. They both knew how the other worked, unfortunately.


	2. Chapter 2

An empty, abandoned car in an empty, abandoned lane. Scotland Yard must have been desperate to get rid of some cases, because Sherlock didn't see the point of him showing up for anything less than an emergency that met his standards. However when Lestrade called and told him he could use some help, John dragged him out of the flat and away from his little experiments he did to keep himself busy.

Sherlock didn't protest as much as he normally did, probably because he wanted to get away from the flat, away from his new neighbor. But there was a part of him that didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay and observe what Charlotte was doing in the hopes of gaining some idea of what was really going on. So far he'd found nothing. To his surprise, she didn't leave her own flat often.

''Sherlock?''

With a shove of his shoulder, Sherlock turned to John who was standing outside of the cab, waiting for him to exit. It appeared he had spaced out for a moment, went into his own world, thinking.

''Yes,'' he nodded, stepping out of the car.

''Something on your mind?'' John asked curiously.

''There's always something on my mind,''

Sherlock walked down to where the crime scene was, tugging his coat tighter around him and adjusting his scarf. John followed behind him, not bothering to explain what he meant by something on his mind.

''Couldn't have got here sooner,'' Lestrade put his hands on his hips as he turned toward the men. ''I called you two hours ago,''

''Yes I thought I'd give you a chance to learn something and perhaps even solve the case yourself but again, wasted effort,'' Sherlock sighed. ''Let's get this over with,''

* * *

It surprised Sherlock that he hadn't had any further contact with Charlotte since the other day when she first moved into the flat across from his. It only added further to his suspicions on what she was doing here, but he saw no reason to pursue answers just yet. For all he or anyone else knew she could have been in another country right now while they all assumed she was making herself at home.

Sherlock had busied himself with experiments since the cases he got never interested him. Clients came and went, their problems solved in minutes, and John tried to encourage him to help Scotland Yard more, but Sherlock rarely took a case that didn't excite him and he especially didn't help Scotland Yard without them begging for his assistance.

''Would you mind keeping the body parts _out _of the fridge?'' John complained as he shut the door to the refrigerator, his appetite ceasing at the sight of eyeballs rolling around on one of the shelves.

''Where else would I put them?''

''In a lab, in a morgue, I don't know, but not where we're supposed to keep food,''

''I don't eat it,'' Sherlock shrugged.

''Well I-'' John was about to protest, but he knew it was pointless.

There was no changing how Sherlock worked when he was like this. Bored. However that didn't make it any less frustrating to deal with. John walked over and grabbed his coat, careful not to get too close to whatever Sherlock was working on.

''I'm going out for a while,''

Sherlock barely noticed John's absence from being so consumed by the experiment he was working on. It always took extra focus when working with eyeballs, they weren't very easy to get a hold of. His experiments were always for future reference or because he just wanted to, and this was how he dealt with his boredom since John had made it very clear that shooting the walls wasn't acceptable. Especially now they had a neighbor. However John had no idea what this woman was capable of and how calm she would be around gunshots, so far they hadn't delved into Sherlock's past with Charlotte. For all John knew, they'd never met before now.

Hours later, Sherlock was sitting on the couch dressed and ready to go wandering around on his own, looking at particular clues on a case he hadn't yet found interest in. John still hadn't returned and Sherlock only really noticed when he walked to the door and didn't hear his footsteps following behind. It was much needed for him to go off on his own like he used to, not that he didn't enjoy John's company and assistance, but he needed to cure his boredom more than anything.

''Sherlock?''

Just as he reached the bottom of the stairs, heading for the door, Mrs. Hudson's voice had stopped him when she walked out of her own flat. She had bright yellow gloves on from cleaning dishes and was waving for him to stop before he left.

''What is it?'' he asked impatiently as the old woman walked close to him.

''It's about the neighbor, Charlotte,'' Mrs. Hudson whispered as if her voice could be heard from upstairs. ''I haven't seen her in days, haven't heard a word. I don't think the door's even opened once,''

Sherlock already knew this, but he didn't understand why she was telling him this.

''No, it hasn't,'' he shook his head, stepping away toward the door.

''Sherlock!'' she stopped him again. ''What if something's happened? What if...you don't think...oh what if something bad has happened to her?''

''You mean what if she's dead? I'm sure you'd smell it by now,''

Mrs. Hudson's eyes widened.

''But what else could it be?''

''Perhaps she's not as social as you'd wish, maybe you were mislead by her personality,'' he sighed, hoping this conversation would end soon.

''Won't you go up and check, Sherlock?''

''Me? You're the landlady, it's your duty,'' he protested.

''Please, Sherlock. I don't want to find...if something bad has happened,'' she shook her head, implying he had more experience with dead bodies if that happened to be the case.

Sherlock sighed heavily when he saw the worry in the woman's eyes. He wasn't sure if it was his interest in the matter which sparked his relent or because he knew Mrs. Hudson wouldn't let him walk out the door without whining more, but he soon started stepping back up the stairs to the flat across from his.

Sherlock pushed opened the door slowly, careful not to make a sound as he entered the small flat. The entry lead straight into the living room that allowed a view to the kitchen and bedroom just as his own, but he couldn't see anyone. It wasn't until he walked closer to the tiny hallway that he heard running water from the shower. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. Question her about why she hadn't left her flat? Why she was acting like such a recluse? He should have left when he heard signs of her being there, his task was complete, she wasn't dead and Mrs. Hudson could stop worrying. But as always, one tiny interest led to another in the small space filled with so many things.

Stepping over the numerous newspaper pages on the floor, Sherlock came to the small table in the middle of the room that sat a tray of tea, days old, which had cigarette butts piled all around the side.

Everything else was ignored when he picked up a page from the scattered newspaper and saw Charlotte had been monitoring the recent crimes in the area. Not uncommon, but hoarding papers for days that contained the smallest of matters seemed odd, especially since she wasn't the sort of person to go after anything so simple. Like Sherlock, she only went after the big cases, the complex ones that she knew would be interesting. These were useless, but she had kept them all.

When he looked back at the small table to set the page back down, he realized what had been hiding beneath. It was obvious what it was and he couldn't help stare for a moment. It had been a long time since he'd used it, but as soon as his eyes caught it he could immediately feel the sensation in his body from memories of his past. Snow white powder sectioned off into tiny white heaps, ready, and a light trail beside it, complete. Cocaine.

He didn't even notice the water had turned off during his discovery. Slowly, he looked up to see Charlotte standing in front of him, wrapped in a white towel and hair dripping wet. It was hard not to notice the dark circles under her eyes which suggested she hadn't slept the whole time she had been here. Her expression was blank, but he could see the anger she was hiding. Now he was getting somewhere.

''You're using again,'' he spoke quietly.

''How observant of you,'' she snatched the paper from his hands, setting it on top of the powder.

Sherlock watched as her hands trembled around her body, holding the corner of the towel as she tucked it beneath the bottom layer. Her irritation, sleep deprivation, nerves, anxiety. Fear. It only took a quick scan of the bedroom when he walked in to notice the bed hadn't been used, food hadn't been eaten, most movements hadn't left the living room.

''What's going on?''

''Nothing's going on,'' she stood back, rolling her eyes and waiting for him to leave. ''What do you want?''

''Why the cocaine?'' he asked as he stood up, pacing the room with his hands behind his back as if he was interrogating a client. ''I thought your work came first,''

''Well that's where you and I differ, I can handle my habit and still function highly enough to actually do my work,''

''Wrong. You and I differ with our reasoning. You use to cope, I use to cure,'' he told her, ceasing his pace. ''Which means there's something bothering you enough to resort to drugs. In fact it's been bothering you before you came here, but it hasn't stopped,''

Charlotte ran her hand through her wet hair and shook her head. No one was ever in the mood to be analyzed by Sherlock Holmes, but stepping out of the shower to see someone had found your bad habit and began investigating your actions was probably the worst mood to experience it.

''Great work detective, did you get your fill for the day? Enough information to live off for the rest of the afternoon?'' she asked angrily, raising her voice slightly. ''Your life must be quite dull for you to be looking into mine,''

''Oh please, you're actions scream attention,'' he shook his head. ''A cry for help, even,''

''Don't flatter yourself, I wouldn't cry for your attention or your help,''

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, narrowing his eyes.

''Why here?'' he asked, putting his hands behind his back. ''You're scared of something, you can't sleep, you can't eat and you're taking cocaine to stay awake because you fear what would happen if you were asleep. Why did you come _here _to hide?''

Charlotte shook her head slightly.

''I'm not hiding,''

''Don't lie, spare us both some time and just tell me what it is you're running from,'' he moved closer. ''I could help, I could protect-''

''Don't lie,'' she shook her head with an amused chuckle. ''I don't need your help,''

They stood there for a while in silence, staring at each and other and wondering who was going to speak next. Sherlock wanted to press for answers now that he saw the toll the situation was taking on Charlotte, someone who rarely became so bothered by something as silly as fear, but he could see he wasn't going to get any more. Charlotte wanted him to leave so she could get back to her routine she'd been in for the last week, she couldn't waste time arguing with him. But now he was aware something was going on, and she knew he was going to get answers some way. She could take care of herself, she'd dealt with things like this before, getting too close to a case, the exposure, but she was going to handle it herself. Sherlock Holmes didn't have to solve everything, she was just as capable.

''What's going on?''

They both turned toward the door to the flat which Sherlock hadn't bothered to shut. Charlotte should have been alert now knowing that whoever was nearby would have heard their entire conversation, or argument rather, but both her and Sherlock instead stared at John standing out in the hall with a very confused look on his face.

* * *

**Okay so I really wanted to get this chapter out so you guys could see where I'm going with this. This is kind of where it all sort of begins in terms of the something big that's going on, but I'll work on that as the story continues. Anyway, if you like where this is going or are enjoying the story, please review, I want to know if anyone is interested in continuing to read. Like I said, I'm not setting out to be a popular Sherlock story, it's simply an idea I've had that I wanted to write down otherwise they'd be bottled up in my head. Thanks for reading. **


	3. Chapter 3

The echoing slam of Charlotte's door was enough to indicate she wasn't up for further discussion. Sherlock simply straightened up his coat and wandered back over to the door of his own flat, his previous intentions of investigating a boring case now forgotten.

''Are you going to explain that?'' John asked, puzzled.

''Explain what?''

John scoffed, wondering if Sherlock was actually being serious with his ability to overlook everything he didn't think was important.

''What were you doing in that woman's apartment?''

''Mrs. Hudson was concerned, I was nagged into checking she wasn't dead,'' Sherlock answered, hanging up his coat and relaxing into his chair, thinking.

''Oh and you just sparked an argument with her, just like everyone else,'' John shook his head, taking his own seat.

''No, not like everyone else,''

John looked over to him expecting him to say more and Sherlock could already hear the questions he was about to ask. He always had to explain things to him which he thought were so obvious.

''The woman across the hall is here for a reason, I know how she works and I know when something isn't right,'' Sherlock explained. ''I was trying to find answers, but it seems the situation is more complex than I thought,''

Staring back at him, John had a million more questions now. Sherlock didn't have old friends, people that he could catch up or get together with, but he did have enemies. Many of them. But if this woman was an enemy, surely he would have told him by now.

''You...you know this woman?'' John pointed to the door.

''She's a dangerous woman, obviously,'' Sherlock put his hands together, his eyes narrowing as he thought out loud. ''Involved in something much more dangerous...she can't handle it. Something she hadn't encountered before,''

''How do you know her?''

''And then she came here of all places, knowing it'd make me curious, needing my help but then refusing it...'' he continued his thought. ''Oh yes, something dangerous definitely,''

''Are you even listening to me?'' John threw his hands up. ''Who is that woman and how do you know her?''

Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh and put his hands down, his thought process paused for the moment.

''A year ago I was on a case out of town. One man on the run, one chance to stop him but someone else had the same plan. I had been investigating the matter for months so one could understand my distrust of another person becoming involved. I ran into her and she made sure the suspect was...unable to escape before she handed the rest of the responsibility to me. We've crossed paths on a few occasions since then, other than that we're completely disconnected. Until now, of course,'' he explained. ''Now, onto more important-''

''So she does cases,'' John nodded, understanding. ''She's like _you_,''

''No. I have my methods, she has her own, we're not alike,'' Sherlock looked over to John, almost offended. ''Charlotte has a habit of getting involved in operations she's not capable of handling. Underground matters, much darker than the cases I take on,''

''So she's got more experience?''

''Of course not,'' Sherlock scoffed. ''She just finds those cases interesting for some reason. To me, there as plain as everything else in this world. Boring, really. But she _is _capable of taking care of herself and rarely runs away from anything, which is why the idea of her hiding is so suspicious. She's gotten into something she can't handle, I just don't know what,''

John watched Sherlock walk around the room, pacing and looking out the windows. He was thinking intensely as if he was on a big case, and then John realized that he had just found the next thing to take all of attention. He wasn't going to let whatever Charlotte was caught up in go, he was going to focus on that now, and if it was as dangerous as Sherlock was assuming, it was something to be worried about.

''You're going to help her,'' John wondered.

''I haven't made my mind up,''

* * *

It had been two days since Sherlock had been to Charlotte's apartment, and still nothing had changed. Charlotte hadn't appeared, hadn't left her flat and nothing more was said. Sherlock busied himself with experiments in the kitchen, occasionally searching for any more information he could find on the situation Charlotte was involved in, but nothing had come up yet. Whatever it was, it wasn't a public case, it was underneath the radar.

One late afternoon, Sherlock was staring at the wall in the flat covered in newspaper clippings and photos of suspects involved in cases Lestrade had told him about while John was blogging away on his laptop. The whole building was silent until the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs became apparent. They were hurried as if someone was running, and then the sound of fumbling fingers trying to unlock a door made Sherlock open the door to see what was going on. Usually when he heard footsteps on the stairs, it meant someone was coming to his door, perhaps a client, but when he looked out the door he saw Charlotte leaning against her door twisting the key.

Her fingers seemed bruised as they held the doorknob and her whole body was shaking. Fear. Sherlock hadn't even noticed she had left the building and he had been paying close attention to it over the past few days. However she did leave, and something happened.

''What are you running from?'' he asked, startling her as she finally opened the door.

Charlotte didn't answer, instead she pushed open the door and hurried into her apartment, not even bothering to shut the door. Sherlock followed out of curiosity and hopes he would get answers, watching as she walked into the bedroom and began ripping drawers and cupboards open. Everything that was inside them, she threw into a suitcase she pulled out from under the bed. Her movements were so fast, Sherlock thought whoever she was running from was already in the building, but they would have been here by now.

''What's going on?''

''Don't worry, I'm leaving,''

Sherlock walked closer to her and noticed the cuts on her hands as well. Whoever she was running from had found her somewhere tonight, and she managed to escape. He put his hand on her shoulder and made her turn to him, eyes narrowed as if he was looking for any other mark on her, but he didn't need to, the damage was obvious.

Charlotte's eyes were darkening fast, forming painful bruises, as blood trailed from her nose and lip. Yes, they had found her tonight. She had probably been hurt more over her body, but she was still full of adrenaline from the confrontation that she probably didn't even feel it just yet.

''You need to tell me what's going on,'' Sherlock told her seriously, his hand still on her shoulder.

''Oh my god,'' John's voice came from over at the door.

Charlotte's scattered belongings were forgotten about for the moment as she sat in Sherlock and John's flat. She held a small ice pack on her temple while John gathered up his medical supplies. Sherlock stood over across from her, staring, frustrated that she wasn't willing to tell him what was really going on. He would be careful, he could sort it all out, he could help her.

''This is probably going to sting,'' John warned as he dabbed a cotton ball into some antiseptic ointment.

''I need to go,'' she told him, shaking her head.

''Where?'' Sherlock spoke. ''Another city where they'll just find you again, wherever you are?''

Charlotte glared over at the man, staying where she was as John began to press the antiseptic against her lip, looking over her bruised eyes as he did so. He now believed Sherlock in regards to the dangerous things this woman was involved in. But as Sherlock had also pointed out, she could take care of herself. Enough to get back to Baker street without followers which was impressive considering the pain her body must have been in.

''You'll be running for a long time if you don't fix this,'' Sherlock added.

''I can't fix it,'' she finally answered. ''I'm a target now, I can't undo that,''

''A target to who?''

''If I tell you then you'll be a target as well,'' she shook her head.

''We're a target with you just being here,''

''No you're not. I've been here for over a week and none of them have been here,'' she explained. ''They know who you are, this is the last place they'd look for me. They're scared of you, you're too smart for them I suppose,'' she rolled her eyes before wincing at the pain in that small movement. ''They have no reason to come here,''

Sherlock knew she was telling the truth, she had no one else to trust. They wouldn't look for her here, that's why she came here. All this time, Sherlock had been protecting her without even knowing it. He had no idea that his residence would be so safe for her, for anyone really. He had clients come and go everyday, any one of them could have seen her, which explains why she didn't leave her flat. She had it all planned.

''Why did you leave tonight?'' Sherlock questioned.

Charlotte sighed, making a face that suggested she wished she didn't leave at all.

''I had one person in London that I knew, and I'd spoken of them a few times before. I thought they might have known how to get into contact with anyone who could help. But when I got there, I discovered he was no longer an ally of mine but of the others, apparently,''

''He turned on you,'' John shook his head.

''He was the bait, actually. They knew sooner or later I'd visit. I forgot I spoke of him to them, I should have known they'd remember everyone I've ever mentioned, especially around here,''

John looked over to Sherlock, worry in his eyes at the idea of whoever these people were turning up at their door considering Sherlock's connection with the woman.

''They won't,'' Charlotte answered, noticing John's expression. ''I didn't mention I knew you,''

''Good,'' Sherlock nodded. ''It'll be easier for us to play their game now,''

''It's not your game to play, just...stay out of it, I've got it,''

Sherlock looked over to her with a confused yet entertained expression.

''You do realize how stupid you sound, don't you? You can't control this, you haven't 'got this' at all! You never do. You always take action at the last second and you're too late,''

''That's me rearranging my entire plan because _you _got in the way, every time,'' she argued back.

John sat in the middle of the living room turning his head back and forth each time they spoke. He'd never seen Sherlock argue so casually with someone else. He argued with Mycroft and with John occasionally over stupid things, but right now it was as if he was witnessing a married couple's spat.

''Not to mention every case, even the simplest ones, you've nearly got yourself killed each time,'' Sherlock walked closer to her.

''I'm still alive aren't I?'' Charlotte raised her voice, standing up and facing him.

They stood inches apart, consumed with frustration and anger at one another, as John sat confused. It was as if they wanted to kill one another with the looks in their eyes, yet they were protecting each other at the same time. The whole argument was based on Sherlock's desire to help and Charlotte's intention to keep him safe and out of it all. It was odd for John to witness Sherlock even showing the slightest care for someone else, he knew their history was bigger than a few run-ins during some cases.

''Okay,'' John stood up, taking a deep breath. ''This isn't helping,''

''Good, because help is the last thing I want,'' she folded her arms, gasping as she applied pressure on her bruised body.

They both watched as Charlotte walked over to the door and slammed it shut behind her, making her way back to her flat and slamming that door as well. It was quite for a moment before Sherlock groaned loudly, running his fingers through his hair angrily. John didn't expect him to walk off to his room and slam the door like Charlotte, but that's exactly what he did.

John was then left in the living room alone, looking around and trying to process what he had just witnessed in such little time.

''I'm surrounded by children,''

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. A lot more will probably happen next chapter, more details and stuff coming out. Anyway, it'd be awesome if you guys could review and let me know what you think, I'd really appreciate it :) Thanks for reading**


	4. Chapter 4

It was the next morning when John decided that the silent act between Sherlock and Charlotte had to end. If they were having an argument over things they disliked about each other, this wasn't the time for it. Dangerous people were after Charlotte and John knew she needed Sherlock's help, even if she was too stubborn to admit it. Those people were eventually going to find out that she was here, she couldn't live in a room forever.

''If she thinks she can handle this then let her,'' Sherlock answered when John asked him to simply pay her a visit and forget about their argument the evening before. ''It's no concern of mine,''

John shook his head and walked over to grab his coat. He needed to get out for the morning, let Sherlock have his tantrum on his own since he wasn't going to sit around all day and listen to him complain about her when he could easily fix it by letting it go.

''You say that now but something tells me if she gets killed by whatever's going on, it will concern you,'' John told him while pulling on his coat.

''Where are you going?''

''Out. There's no food in the fridge, at least nothing safe to eat,''

As the door closed, Sherlock stopped reading the paper in his hands, letting it fall to his lap as he thought about what John said. Sherlock was a stubborn man, but whatever case this was, it wasn't one that could wait. He could argue that he wasn't going to help her or pretend he didn't care about the whole thing, but he knew eventually he would and things would be easier if he just did it now. Truthfully, he would care if Charlotte was killed. Not because he had feelings for her or a connection at all, Sherlock would never admit to something so silly, but because she didn't deserve to die. The two were so similar, it was hard for Sherlock to admit he would do the same in her situation. He would reject help, he wouldn't be so weak as to confirm he couldn't take care of himself, that he didn't know what to do. But he knew that if the situation was reversed, she would help him just the same.

Groaning as he stood up, Sherlock straightened his suit up and walked out into the hall. He hated having to go to someone to help them, usually they came to him. But Charlotte wasn't a client, at least not a willing one.

When he knocked on her door, he could hear the slow footsteps over until she yanked open the door and he was confronted with a much weaker, vulnerable Charlotte than he knew. Her eyes were dark purple and her lip was swollen, obvious injuries on her pale skin. What took his attention further was the fact she was wearing a short, cropped pajama top that showed a painful, swelling bruise on her abdomen. There wasn't a patch of skin that Sherlock could see no damage to, and Charlotte turned to pull on a long cardigan when she noticed his looks.

''What now?'' she walked away, taking a seat on her couch.

''You weren't very cautious opening the door. It could have been anyone, you didn't even check,'' Sherlock pointed out, sitting in the single sofa across from her.

''I did happen to hear your door and the five whole obnoxious footsteps over here,'' she sighed. ''Don't treat me like a rookie,''

Sherlock dropped his gaze then, turning to the apartment and looking around for anything suspicious or that he could question. He looked at the chairs, at the rooms with open doors and the small table in the middle of the room, the one he had accidentally searched previously.

''There's nothing here,'' she answers his unspoken question. ''No drugs, if that's what you're looking for,''

''I have no interest in your recreational habits,'' Sherlock told her, still looking around as if she was lying. ''I thought you were leaving, running away to a new hideout,''

''They know I'd run. This is the best hideout I have anyway, can't risk leaving it,'' she told him honestly, her face contorting in pain as she moved slightly.

''Not even for medical treatment?''

''I don't need medical treatment,''

''Your choice. However you_ do_ need something, as much as you deny it,'' he crossed his hands in his lap. ''My help,''

Charlotte rolled her eyes and looked away from him. It wasn't angering her that he was being so persistent, in fact she appreciated the slight concern, but what she did hate was looking helpless, vulnerable and in need. She always took care of herself, always. Charlotte hated asking for help, even if it was desperately needed like it was now. What made it worse was that it was Sherlock who she needed the help from. They both had rather large egos and couldn't bare the thought of having to rely on the other's help, but she had no other choice.

''I'm capable-''

''Let's skip this useless argument, time isn't something that's on your side for this and I'm rather bored of hearing the same defense. You need my help and I'm willing to help you, but I need to know what I'm dealing with and to do that, you need to tell me everything,''

''If I tell you, you'll be involved. I know how you work as well, you'll get too close and they're already keeping an eye on you, making sure you don't know anything, and when they find out that you do...well, they won't be so subtle,''

Sherlock could see that her warning was genuine, but that didn't matter to him. He knew he could handle whatever she was involved in, even though they both dealt with very different things in their day to day life, both finding their own interesting cases.

''I'd ask you to start with what happened last night and who found you, but we'd get further if you started from the beginning,''

Charlotte looked over to him and gave him a look that asked if he was sure, but Sherlock was not someone to joke, especially about something like this. This whole case intrigued him, but he also didn't want Charlotte dealing with this by herself since it was clear she was ridiculously outnumbered and couldn't handle this on her own. At least Sherlock had John's help with cases and the backup of Lestrade and Scotland Yard's services. Sherlock knew people, Charlotte had no one.

''I met them when I was in France, three months ago. They're a...an underground group, I suppose,''

''How typical of you,'' Sherlock shook his head, finding her attraction to mysteriously dangerous cases entertaining.

Charlotte glared over to him before she began speaking once again, folding her arms.

''I helped the police in Paris a few years ago and they wanted me to do some computer hacking. Apparently someone high in the ranks was paying an unknown organization and once the payments were made, a rival or opponent was found dead or went missing. But as usual I didn't stop there. I went looking for them, the clues and connections were so obvious I didn't know how they had missed it. I found them and pretended to be interested in hiring them and after a few months I had gained their trust and associated with them daily, but before I could exploit that trust, they found out about my earlier cooperation with the police and...I failed to bargain my way out, so I ran. Something I've never had to do before, at least not from someone I'd been chasing myself, and it's pathetic, but that's what lead me here. Are you caught up yet?''

Sherlock took a moment to gather everything she had just said, but he had already formed a deep understanding as she was speaking. The people she was running from were killers, hit men, hired to murder whoever their target was, and he understood perfectly. Charlotte was their new target.

''Why did you gain their trust? Why not find them and hand it over to the police? Surely you could have seen how it was going to end eventually,''

''Because it wasn't enough. To hand them over and call them murderers, it wasn't good enough. I wanted to find out who was hiring them and hold them accountable too, I wanted to hand over everyone not just a few of them,'' she explained. ''But it was all for nothing, the police never found out and never heard from me again,''

''And your first thought was to come here?'' he asked curiously.

''Oh don't flatter yourself, this wasn't my first choice,'' she rolled her eyes. ''I went wherever I could find a roof for a while until I found myself in London and I knew they'd be watching, they have people in almost every city and I knew all the bad guys around here were scared of Sherlock Holmes, so I figured that'd be the once place they'd all stay away from,''

Sherlock nodded as he listened, rather impressed by her methods. She knew what she was doing, he never doubted that, but he could still see she didn't know how to fix it all. She never expected to get so involved in the case, and being all for nothing, he understood why she didn't want to come to him for help, why she kept refusing to include him. Charlotte was ashamed of what she'd created, the situation she was responsible for and she didn't want Sherlock or anyone else to end up in her position.

''Who were they?''

''They didn't have a collective name, I only knew their individual names, but it's useless, they keep themselves well hidden,'' she shrugged. ''But then again, you know these streets better than I do,''

''Well, if you stayed in one place for more than a few days you'd familiarize yourself,''

''Maybe, doesn't sound very fun though,''

''I need their names and anything you can remember about them,''

''I remember everything,'' she assured. ''But what are you going to do that I haven't?''

Sherlock stood up, straightening out his suit.

''I have Scotland Yard's database on my laptop and a brother who knows everything about underground activity,''

''Oh right, Mycroft Holmes, how could I forget?'' she sighed, remembering the times she had ran into the other Holmes on the various cases her and Sherlock had worked.

Charlotte stood up from the couch, forgetting about her biggest injury, and soon realized her mistake. She stood with wide eyes for a moment before bending forward to rest her hands on the side of the couch, holding herself up as she groaned in pain, gritting her teeth. Sherlock was busy staring out of her window when he heard her, turning to see her almost on the floor with her arms wrapped around her. He stared for a short moment, wondering what he was supposed to do since she didn't want medical attention or help, but he quickly walked over in a few short paces and assisted her. His arm slid around her back as he helped her stand back up, waiting for her to suggest what to do.

''I thought you were fine,'' he spoke after a moment of silence.

''I am fine,'' she nodded, wincing loudly and squeezing her eyes shut.

''Obviously not,'' he remarked.

Charlotte had walked away too early when John was taking care of her the previous day. He had applied antiseptic to her cuts and tiny injuries on her face, but she had taken off in frustration before he could suggest how to handle her main source of pain. She had suffered many injuries before including broken bones and stints in hospitals, but that was before she restricted herself to house arrest and refused to leave. Now she had to suffer without medication or any other assistance, and a day later, she was realizing just how bad it was.

* * *

**This was going to go on further but it was pushing a little too many words so I'll upload it in the next chapter where things get a bit more interesting. I was going for the cliffhanger effect but the cliffhanger was almost 1000 words away, so next time ;) Anyway, hope you're enjoying. Please review, I don't really mind what you say but just let me know if you're liking it or have any idea to contribute or questions, thanks. **


	5. Chapter 5

Before she could protest, Sherlock lead her out of her apartment and over to his own, holding up most of her weight and pushing the door open with his shoulder. John was sitting in his chair reading the paper and munching on an apple when he looked over to see the two of them making their way inside.

''What's happened now?'' he asked, tossing the paper aside and helping lay Charlotte down on the couch.

''Nothing,'' she told him through gritted teeth, her hand applying pressure to the area under her shirt.

John noticed and assumed that's where the injury was, and so he bent down to inspect the area, lifting the material to find a deep purple bruise with hints of other colors mixed in. It was painful to look at and the swelling was gruesome, but he put his fingers to the flesh and pressed down, his medical mind at work as Charlotte bit down on her lip in pain.

''Probably a bruised rib, or a couple,'' he looked over to her. ''Why didn't you tell me that yesterday?''

''Why would I?'' she grumbled. '

John shook his head. She was very stubborn, just like someone else he dealt with.

''You'll have to wrap your abdomen tight, apply pressure and don't stand up too quick, it contracts your muscles and it'll just make it worse,'' John walked away to gather his supplies. ''Don't move,''

Charlotte sighed and moved her arm up to rest her head on. In the matter of a few hours, she had agreed to help from Sherlock and now John as well, it was humiliating. Sherlock saw her disapproval of being cared for and helped, and he slightly smirked at how she was handling it all. It was funny, but he did happen to realize that it was a lot like how he acted himself. It was rather annoying noticing all the similarities, but there was no denying it.

Once John had wrapped a few wide bandaged around her waist tight enough that it hurt to even breathe, Charlotte didn't bother sitting up as Sherlock grabbed his laptop and searched the names she told him. John was quickly filled in about what was going on and became just as interested as Sherlock was in finding these people and helping Charlotte.

''Jackson?'' John asked.

''Yes, Jackson is one of the five men in charge. I assume they have their own ranking, but they're the biggest names I know in the organization. Manning, Lewis, Ross, Wallace and Jackson,'' she told them, listing their full names out to Sherlock.

It was a long time before Charlotte became comfortable and Sherlock continued searching. John looked through old newspaper articles involving any murders or disappearances that seemed like the work of hit men on his laptop as Sherlock searched police records in a few countries. Charlotte felt useless as she lay on the couch doing nothing to assist, but it wasn't long before their attention was taken by the elderly woman at the door.

''Oh, I was wondering where you were,'' Mrs. Hudson smiled over to Charlotte. ''It's so nice to see you all getting along and becoming friends, I knew there was something special about you,''

''Thank you,'' Charlotte smiled, knowing that 'special' thing was her dangerous past she'd brought with her.

''I hated the thought of you being stuck in that apartment by yourself all day, you'd be going mad,''

''What do you want?'' Sherlock asked bluntly, not evening looking over to the woman.

''Oh nothing,'' Mrs. Hudson, shook her head. ''But I'm glad I caught you dear, I ran into one of your family friends at the dry cleaners. Normally I don't bother going there but I had this beautiful pair of-''

''Who?'' Charlotte sat up slightly, looking over with wide eyes. She knew no one here, absolutely no chance of family friends especially.

''Oh I didn't catch her name, we didn't speak long. I was telling Marie about the lovely woman renting the other flat in my building and well I suppose she overheard. She seemed rather surprised, I hope I didn't ruin some kind of surprise family reunion,''

Sherlock, John and Charlotte all glanced at each other for a moment. It was all about to come crashing down. All of the progress she'd made, the perfect hideaway, it was all gone.

''No, no, it's fine,'' Charlotte smiled over to the woman, staying calm. ''What were you two talking about?''

''Just you mostly dear, she didn't stay long enough to talk about much else. I think she might visit later on, she seemed rather eager to see you. She said Richard would be happy to hear you're in town,'' Mrs. Hudson smiled before rushing back down the stairs when she heard her tea was ready.

Charlotte stayed silent as she stared at the empty doorway where Mrs. Hudson previously stood, still trying to confirm that what she just heard was correct. The woman Mrs. Hudson had spoken to was an ally of Richard Ross, one of the five men Charlotte knew were in charge. They were getting closer, and now they'd just found out a very important piece of information. They were going to come looking for her, that was obvious, but she didn't know how. Their fear of Sherlock Holmes was clear as they made an effort to avoid his attention and Charlotte remembered hearing them complain about his methods.

Sherlock also remained quiet for a moment, thinking to himself about what their next move would be to outsmart them. John was the only one who said anything, breaking the intense silence among them.

''Richard...as in Richard Ross?'' he shook his head in disbelief. ''I thought you were well hidden here,''

''So did I,'' Charlotte told him quietly. ''It must have been the woman from the other night. When I went to the house looking for my 'friend', there was a woman in the group...sort of like she was leading the whole thing, probably working for Ross. She would have known I was staying in London...''

''How _did _you get out of that, by the way?'' John asked, genuinely curious.

''They might be murderers but they're not smart, and I know how to break bones very easily,'' she told him in a tone that made him wonder just how dangerous she could be. ''I might have angered them with that one, guess they stepped up their surveillance,''

''They'll be coming here soon,'' Sherlock finally spoke.

''Then I need to leave here,'' Charlotte sat up.

''No,'' Sherlock stood up. ''Can't leave, they'll be watching right now.''

''They'll search this place until they find me, it's better if I just walk outside right now and pretend that I know nothing. They'll follow me, they wont bother either of you or Mrs. Hudson,'' she told him. ''It's the easiest way,''

''Well yes, it's obviously the easiest way but it's not the smartest. They'll follow you away from here and then what? You'll be right back where you started, if not dead. Honestly I don't know how you've got this far,''

''Yeah, okay this is _still _not helping,'' John interrupted. ''We need to think of a plan and fast, because they're out there watching right now and it's not like we can just walk out without them noticing,''

There was a brief moment of silence among them as they thought of what to do. A last minute plan was never going to be good, but they didn't need a perfect plan or an elaborate scheme, they just needed something good enough and believable enough to get them through the inevitable visit from whoever was on their way.

Not enough time to run and hide, not enough time to pack up and leave, there just wasn't enough time for anything. Charlotte knew one thing for sure though. She wasn't getting out of this building. With eyes watching the front door and an injury that prevented her from moving fast, she was stuck.

''They're going to come to you two,'' Charlotte looked over. ''My flat will be empty when they come up, and they know you'd be suspicious about me and they'll want to know why I came here. Of course they'll know why, they're intimidated by you, but they wouldn't let that show,'' It was clear now that she was thinking out loud just as Sherlock did sometimes. ''They'll want to talk to you, see if you know anything, and they won't believe whatever you tell them, but they'll still want to hear it. We have enough time to go to my flat and make it look like I've left in a hurry, taken very little of my belongings. I can hide in here, they wouldn't search your flat, well not with you here, it's the only option for such short notice,''

Sherlock thought for a moment about her plan. She was right, it was their only option right now since they had little time to prepare. They'd have to make Charlotte's flat look like she had left in a hurry, and they'd also have to let Mrs. Hudson know. They couldn't risk her telling more people, but they also couldn't risk her knowing the truth.

''It'll have to do for now,'' Sherlock nodded. ''I'll go to the flat and make it look believable, John you go tell Mrs. Hudson,''

''Tell her what?'' John asked.

''Anything! Anything to make her believe that Charlotte's in danger and that she has to act as though she left this morning while she was at the dry cleaners. Tell her anything, make it up, but don't tell her the truth, that'd be even worse,''

John looked between Charlotte and Sherlock for a suitable excuse to give to the woman, but neither of them offered anything, so he hurried downstairs hoping he would think of something quick. Charlotte pushed herself off the couch and ignored the pain she immediately felt, walking over to her flat carefully, making sure she didn't pass any windows in case she was being watched. Sherlock walked in front of her, hurrying into the apartment.

Charlotte went into the bedroom and gathered specific items that would make it look like she left in a hurry. Most of her clothes remained untouched except for a coat and shoes, and she grabbed essentials such as her purse and emptied a drawer to make out that something important was inside.

''Scatter everything else, make it look like you were running for your life,'' Sherlock suggested.

Charlotte had already done what Sherlock said on her own, he was just looking around the room from the doorway making sure everything seemed believable. They didn't have much time at all and John hadn't come back upstairs yet, but Charlotte made sure to leave her set of keys on the table neatly as if displayed for Mrs. Hudson to collect, a sign that she was not returning.

They walked out then, leaving the door unlocked. John joined them in their flat a moment later, and they all took a moment to anticipate what was coming next.

''What did you tell her?'' Charlotte asked, holding her stomach as she tried to calm down the burning pain.

''I told her something was going on in your family, it wasn't safe for them to find you. She's going to tell them you left this morning while she was out, while we were all out, but I can't promise it'll work,'' he told her breathlessly.

''They'll be here soon,'' Sherlock sat in his seat, his hands forming the same position they did when he was thinking deeply.

Both John and Charlotte saw the look in Sherlock's eyes. One that worried them and reassured them at the same time. Excitement.

* * *

**Well, I hope you guys are enjoying the story. Please review and thanks for reading. **


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock's bedroom was rather boring, much to Charlotte's disappointment. There was no body parts in the corner or a journal kept of all the cases he had done. All of the details of anything Sherlock done wasn't anywhere physical, it was all in his mind. She had strict instructions to stay quiet until their visitors had left, although they hadn't even arrived yet. It was only just apparent that she wouldn't be able to go back to her flat again, at least not to stay. She would have to hide out here for longer than just this afternoon.

Charlotte sighed as she rested her head back on the pillows of the bed, trying to rest and let her injury recover, but it was hard to stay still when all she wanted to do was walk out the door or at least press her ear up against it. Whoever was going to show up looking for her, she wanted to know what their story was.

Out in the living room, Sherlock was thinking to himself about how was going to handle the situation. He couldn't let them know he knew anything about what was going on, but he didn't like the idea of just letting them go either. However, if they could just get through the afternoon without anything happening, they would have much more time to organize a plan and for Charlotte's injury to heal enough for her for her to help as well since she insisted she be apart of the plan.

''What if they're armed?'' John asked. ''We don't know how...forward they'll be,''

''Of course they'll be armed, they're hit men. As far as they're concerned, we know nothing. You busy yourself with something in the papers and I'll busy myself with...''

''Eyeballs in the kitchen?''

It was about an hour before they heard Mrs. Hudson's laugh downstairs. The laugh that only came out when she was greeting her own visitors. It was pleasant, peaceful. Sherlock imagined she would be telling them right now that Charlotte no longer lived here, that she ran off this morning after receiving some bad news. Mrs. Hudson was a good liar when it came down to it, she had hidden her husband's bad habit for many years.

However it wasn't long after their arrival that they could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Sherlock resisted walking over to the door to look out and see what they were doing, they couldn't risk looking as if they knew anything. The shove of the door, the sound of them throwing objects all over the apartment as if searching for any indication to where she had gone. Everything was going as expected, however neither of them had come to the door of Sherlock's flat yet. Charlotte had informed him of their fear they held toward the detective, but Sherlock hardly thought that would stop them from trying to find answers.

''What are you doing?''

John watched as Sherlock stood up from his chair and walked over to the door and opened it, putting his hands behind his back as he stepped out as if to inspect the noise. He was changing the plan. If they weren't going to come to him, he was going to go to them. He needed to see them, deduce all that he could.

They were beginning to descend the stairs when he took a step outside the door and into the hall. The man and woman were speaking to each other in quiet whispers, but once they heard the creak of the floorboards behind them, they became silent. Sherlock stared back at them as if he was waiting for an explanation. He was quite a good actor too when it came to fooling others to get information. As far as they knew, he had no knowledge of Charlotte or what they were here for.

''Mr. Holmes...'' the man nodded in greeting as the woman just stared.

''Clients?'' he asked, playing the part.

''No, no. We were just looking for someone,''

The woman shot the man a warning look as he spoke, and Sherlock noticed. They were trying to hide it from him, they didn't want him to be involved. Sherlock pointed over to Charlotte's flat.

''The one who was there?'' he asked casually.

The pair's eyes grew wide, sensing he would know something, and nodded.

''Do you know where she's gone?'' the woman asked.

''No,'' Sherlock shrugged as if he'd just lost all interest. ''Shame though, seemed the perfect neighbor. Never left and never made a noise, quite bearable,''

''Did you know her?'' the woman asked again, making it clear she was desperate for answers.

''No, I don't make a point of acquainting myself with those around me. Never saw her,'' he shrugged again. ''Well, thank you for the waste of time,''

Sherlock turned and walked back into his flat, shutting the door with a thud. He was sure he played off the situation very coolly, nothing to be suspicious of. It was true was Charlotte said though, they were quite afraid of him. Very cautious about what they said to him, trying not to make a conversation. Their desperation to leave the building was very clear, but he now knew what they looked like.

''Well?'' John stood up. ''What's going on?''

''Absolutely nothing,'' Sherlock sighed. ''They're quite boring. I thought they'd at least kick the door in and make a scene, but apparently I'm frightening,''

John scoffed and rolled his eyes.

''Not but seriously, what's going on?''

''It didn't take much to convince them she was gone. Charlotte must have averted them a few times before, because they weren't surprised at all to see she'd escaped again,'' he sat in his chair once again. ''Unless they think she's going to come back...''

''Well what are we supposed to do?''

''Wait,'' he looked up to John. ''They'll come back, probably later on tonight, to make sure she's really gone or even take some things. Then tomorrow we begin,''

''Begin what?'' John threw his hands up.

''Making Scotland Yard for once useful,'' he stood up again. ''By morning I'll have the information I need and we'll begin,''

''Sherlock,'' John stopped him for walking. ''Are you sure you want to get into this? This is _real _now, people have come looking for her, hit men Sherlock. If she's been running scared, isn't that enough warning to alert the police?''

''The police? They don't know how to deal with it and they're hardly subtle about their investigations,''

''But is it...worth it? Would _she _do the same for you, honestly?'' he asked.

Sherlock looked at John for a moment, realizing what he was actually asking. _Is she worth it?_

''You think I care for her? That I'm doing all of this, just for her?'' he asked.

John didn't say anything, he just shrugged his shoulders as if to suggest he honestly didn't know what his motivation was.

''This is the biggest case I've received this month, it's international. I'm not doing this because I care about her, I'm doing this because I can stop an international organization who make their living off murdering others. I'm doing the case because it's what I do,''

''Okay,'' John nodded, leaving the matter as it was.

However he happened to strike a nerve in Sherlock. It was obvious as he walked away without another word, a look on his face suggesting he was going to dwell on John's suggestion for the rest of the afternoon and night. Sherlock didn't have personal feelings for people, and he especially didn't let such feelings get in the way of his logic. He didn't do things because he cared, he did it because it was exciting to him, it was his adrenaline. The idea that he personally cared for that woman, that he would get in the middle of this whole thing solely for her, was nonsense.

Sherlock swung his bedroom door open and was about to slam it shut behind him as if he was a child during a tantrum, but something stopped him. The sight of Charlotte on his bed, completely asleep, her faint heavy breathing filling the room as she softly snored. He had forgotten it was his room she was in, hiding in case the visitors came into the apartment. He knew she hadn't been sleeping, the fear and the paranoia had prevented her from even closing her eyes in her flat. She knew she was safe here, and that had comforted her so much that she had fallen asleep while resting.

He should have woken her up, made her retreat to John's room if she needed to sleep so that he could have the room to himself and think, to plan their next move in the morning, but he didn't. Sherlock found himself unable to disturb her peaceful slumber, to bring her back to consciousness and make her endure the exhaustion she felt. Instead, he looked around the room for a moment before stepping back silently, quietly closing the door and leaving her be.

John watched from the living room as Sherlock instead retreated to the kitchen. He smiled to himself, satisfied that he wasn't bringing up nonsense. It was clear Sherlock cared for the woman, she was the only one he had a history with and probably the only one who could easily deal with him. But he didn't bring it up again that night.

* * *

Sherlock was still sitting in the living room, his hands resting beneath his chin as he thought to himself, when Charlotte emerged from his bedroom. She shouldn't have fell asleep, she felt embarrassed that while two people willing to help her took care of her problems, she rested peacefully. Breaking his concentration, he looked up and saw her slowly making her way into the kitchen, holding her abdomen which was still strapped up. They weren't going to be able to fully engage in this case until she was healed enough to endure running or evading someone.

The internet had provided him with enough answers for now. He had read about deaths that he could clearly see as being the result of a hit, and he could see that they'd been going on for months. He was wondering why Scotland Yard hadn't picked it up yet, or how he hadn't realized, but his flat had been full of clients with their own odd and boring cases, he hardly ever inquired into what Scotland Yard was trying to busy themselves with.

Charlotte walked into the living room with a cup of coffee, hoping to keep herself awake for the rest of the day. She asked about what happened the previous afternoon, and Sherlock filled her in quickly as he normally did, however where everyone else would struggle to follow his continuous voice, Charlotte just nodded in understanding.

''They're going to keep checking the flat. They're probably watching the building too, making sure you don't come back. It's best you don't leave,'' he suggested.

''Leave where? This flat?'' she looked over to him. ''I can't live here,''

''You can't live anywhere actually, disadvantage of being their target. You're only option is to reside here until you're well enough to leave and by then the surveillance of the building would have dropped enough for you not to be noticed,''

Charlotte didn't want to stay here. She was sick of appearing weak, and now she had to be babysat when they were here and a prisoner here when they weren't. Her whole life she had been independent and she had been, and now she was the most helpless she had ever been. It was shameful.

''I'm well enough-''

''No,'' John's voice came into the room as he fixed the top button of his shirt, picking up the paper that Mrs. Hudson had undoubtedly placed on their table earlier this morning.

''No?''

''No,'' he nodded. ''You have bruised ribs, the more you move, the worse they'll get. I _am _actually a doctor you know,''

''But I'm not a patient,''

''Well if you're here and we're helping you, you're a patient, sorry,'' John told her, ending the conversation as he sat on the couch and began reading the paper.

Charlotte silenced herself and sat quietly on the couch, sipping at her coffee. John was right. While she was here, accepting their help that she now admitted she needed, she'd follow their plan and play by their rules. But once she was better, once she could get out of here, she was going to take care of this before it went too even further.

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	7. Chapter 7

It was odd being in the same room as two people who were so alike. John never really got used to the odd things Sherlock did when he was thinking and working on a case, it surprised him every time. But when he walked into the living room and saw Sherlock and in usual seat and Charlotte over on the couch with the same expression on their face, he didn't really know what to say.

''I'm off to the shops to grab some food...'' he spoke, wondering if they were even listening to him.

That routine had gone on for the past two days now. Sherlock and John had left for a few hours each day to make it less suspicious, they knew people would be watching the apartment. Charlotte had taken over Sherlock's laptop whenever he was gone, using the resources he had to search for the men in charge.

First, she tried looking for the one person she knew in London, Chris, the one she visited the other night. He wasn't on the police records, much to her disappointment. He wasn't involved in the organization, he was just being used by them that one time. She needed to find out where they had slipped up. There had to be something out there in reports or articles of suspicious beatings or deaths. Charlotte knew what to look for, she'd been involved with this organization, they knew how to cover their tracks so well that Sherlock wouldn't notice.

It had only two whole days since their visit from the two strangers. Two whole days of monitoring the situation from the flat and feeling completely useless. Charlotte especially, since she couldn't even leave the flat at all. Mrs. Hudson had come up a few times to check on them, bringing tea and biscuits and sandwiches, all excuses to walk into the apartment and find out why she had to lie the other day.

It was late afternoon when they had another visitor, except this one wasn't a stranger. Peeking through the peephole of the door, checking the man and his surroundings, Charlotte rolled her eyes.

''Oh Mycroft, it's been too long,'' she forced a smile as she opened the door. ''But as always, not long enough,''

Mycroft feigned a smile just the same.

''How very nice to see you Charlotte. Tell me, what troubles have you brought with you this time?''

John looked over to the door as Mycroft walked inside past Charlotte. It seemed Sherlock wasn't the only one who had dealt with Charlotte in the past.

''Hold on, you two know each other?'' he asked, looking between the two of them.

''We're acquainted,'' Charlotte smiled again.

''Yes, I happen to be acquainted with most people who get in the way of national security with their silly little games,'' Mycroft explained. ''Is that what this visit is all about, Sherlock? Planning on causing more trouble?''

Sherlock ignored his brother and continued looking at his computer screen. He had been lucky enough to find photos of Robert Ross, but it wasn't the man who visited the other day. This was a man who got others to do his dirty work and bring him what he wanted, he operated behind the scenes until things got to a certain extent.

''You know every criminal organization operating in London, including those the police and authorities don't know about,'' he spoke.

''Obviously,'' Mycroft looked at his brother. ''Would you get to the point?''

Charlotte then rolled her eyes when she realized why Mycroft was here. They'd had to ask for his help, out of everyone they could have gone to. Mycroft Holmes never assisted in things silently, he would make sure you knew that you were asking for help from him. She figured it made him feel powerful, but she had to admit he actually was rather powerful in terms of how much information he actually knew.

Mycroft and Charlotte's past wasn't as interesting as the one shared with Sherlock. Mycroft worked behind the scenes, and he stepped in to warn them both that they were getting very close to government monitored situations. Although his warnings usually went ignored as Charlotte and Sherlock continued the case they were on until they went their separate ways once again. Mycroft never thought he'd have to deal with another Sherlock, but Charlotte was very close, and their interactions were usually fueled by annoyance and frustration with one another, and now she had to ask for his help.

Sherlock turned to him, displaying the computer screen.

''Have you seen this man before?''

Mycroft only had to look for a moment and nodded.

''Yes, we monitored him for a few weeks last year,'' he answered, taking a seat across from his brother. ''I hardly see how he's of importance to you,''

''What did you monitor him for?'' John asked, folding his arms.

''Fraud,''

''Really? Fraud?'' Charlotte spoke up. ''That's it?''

Mycroft glared over to her, sensing her judgmental tone.

''Spare me the headache of having to decode your unnecessary and annoying dramatics and just tell me what's going on,''

''Killers for hire,'' Sherlock told him. ''An organization operating in London and cities around the world, killing people by request. Richard Ross is one of the founders, and he's here somewhere in London, close by actually,''

''Hit men,'' Mycroft nodded in understanding. ''There's been an underground mob doing that for years, we haven't been exactly monitoring the situation but I'm aware of it. However, I was unaware of Ross's involvement,'' he spoke quietly, not wanting to admit he didn't know something that the others did.

''Why haven't you been monitoring it?'' Charlotte asked, folding her arms as she walked over to them and leaned back on the desk. ''They're killing people, powerful people,''

''The people they kill are aware of the game they're playing. There are always reasons to order a hit on someone, but they are all intertwined together. We don't monitor it because it's simply not as important as other matters of national security. It's not of importance until it is a threat to bigger issues. Those who become a target knew what they were getting into and aren't innocent or defenseless, there is no need for us to get involved,'' he explained.

They all looked briefly between one another. Charlotte didn't want to tell Mycroft what was going on, but there was no going back now, he was already too suspicious. She didn't want his help, she didn't want any of their help. However that was internal debate she argued against every day. She needed their help logically, but morally she wanted to be in this alone.

''Why are you following this, Sherlock?'' Mycroft asked, intrigued. ''Do not tell me you have become involved with these people,''

''No, apparently I frighten them,''

''Then why are you so interested in this man and his organization?'' he asked.

Charlotte could see his frustration growing as no one answered him yet. They hadn't expected him to care so little, not about the victims but about the organization itself, and they didn't even have to ask him how to stop them. No, Mycroft made it clear that whoever became involved was asking for it.

''I'm the next target,'' Charlotte admitted. ''Well, _current _target,''

Mycroft let out a long sigh before looking over to her, a disappointed frown on his face. Charlotte stared back at him, arms folded and ready to take any lecture he was about to give.

''Of all the trouble you get yourself into, of all the people you become involved with, you've chosen a criminal organization of low lives who are the underbelly of society,'' he shook his head. ''I must say, you've outdone yourself, congratulations,''

''And congratulations to you too for managing to ignore it all as if it weren't even happening. I've never felt safer with the nation's security in your hands, really,'' she smiled back at him.

Mycroft glared over to the woman who returned the gesture just as enthusiastically.

''What compelled you to do something so stupid, Charlotte?'' he asked once his frustration subsided.

''I was doing a job that you should be doing. French authorities required my assistance and I got them what they needed, but obviously that's not all that happened. I care about the who and the why and I got too close,'' she told him without a tone of regret.

Mycroft put his fingers on the side of his left temple, closing his eyes and shaking his head in obvious annoyance and disappointment. Charlotte could care less about his personal feelings toward what was going on, she just wanted to get to the point so this whole process of Mycroft being in the apartment could be over as soon as possible.

''Oh and I suppose this is the 'case' you're working on,'' Mycroft looked over to Sherlock.

''It's the most interesting thing that's come up in a month,'' Sherlock shrugged, not wanting his brother to even get the slightest hint that he was doing this for Charlotte's welfare. ''Much more interesting than the rubbish you try to involve me in,''

''Than I assume you know that this organization is endless. It does not end with cutting off the ties in London, this is _international _and it's inevitable,'' Mycroft continued.

''Yeah I think we get the situation,'' John finally spoke up, annoyed at how Mycroft seemed to be emphasizing the danger Charlotte was in. ''Could we focus on what to do about it?''

''There's nothing you can do about it, I'm afraid,'' Mycroft looked over to Charlotte once more. ''You are their target, and they will find you. Even if you get to them first, even if you...eliminate the immediate danger, there are many more Richard Ross's out there. Your name will be running through their stream, it will be at the top of their list. Stopping this won't be easy, but it's not impossible I suppose,''

Charlotte's eyes shot up, looking over to the man with a confused expression. It sounded as if he was willing to help, as if he held some sort of hope for her, but she couldn't be sure.

''Will I be able to do it myself?'' she asked, ignoring the other two men.

''The odds aren't in your favor for that,'' Mycroft shook his head. ''But I wouldn't rule it out,''

''No,'' Sherlock shook his head, still looking at the screen. ''This won't be an independent endeavor, I think there's been enough stupid ideas for now,''

Although they were silent, Mycroft and Charlotte shared an intense stare that spoke words, loud and clear. _I wouldn't rule it out. _Mycroft didn't want Sherlock involved, he was telling her that now. Charlotte was unaware they shared a brotherly bond so close, but she agreed with him as well. She didn't want Sherlock involved, and she was going to let him, or John either.

''I'll gather information and bring it over in the morning,'' Mycroft offered as he stood up. ''Until they, try not to do anything stupid or make things worse,''

His last piece of advice was given to them all, but he had especially intended it for Charlotte and Sherlock. Once the door was shut and Mycroft was gone, Charlotte sat back down on the couch, thinking to herself.

''That went well,'' John remarked as he left the room.

Mycroft was going to gather information for them all to see, but if he had the slightest confidence in her doing this alone, he would have information solely for her as well. She just had to work out how she was going to go about making her own plan inside the one Sherlock was orchestrating.

Going off on her own was the only way she was going to spare them. She'd wanted to do this herself from the beginning, when she first became a target, and she treated this place as simply hideout. But now Sherlock and John were just as in danger as she was, and she couldn't let them get any further. She had to break away, make them think she was a coward and decided to run again, it was the only way.

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